


Sleep With Me?

by Winchester_with_Wings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddly Dean, DO NOT COPY, DO NOT REPLICATE, Do Not Translate, Do not repost, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mostly Fluff, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sex, Sleepy Dean, Smut, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester could really be a sweetheart sometimes. You just had to coax it out of him.</p><p>And apparently just one night of confessing your wanting need for Dean while under the influence of cough syrup was all it took.</p><p>Because now Dean has almost been overly nice and attentive these last few days, offering to help you out with training or researching or even just keeping you company while organizing the Men of Letters archive; almost like he'd been going the extra mile to spend more time with you and you’re pretty sure you’re imagining the passing feather-light touches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep With Me?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fan-fiction.
> 
> I've always kinda been an original works person but I recently started reading "reader inserts" and they intrigued me and I thought I'd give it a shot. Also I haven't really ever written explicit sex content. While I like writing romance, in the past I tended to utilize the "fade to black" technique. But now I'm an adult and I should be allowed to talk about sex dang it! So here you go!
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome but ya'll just be aware that this perspective and content is new to me. haha <3
> 
> Btw, if y'all are interested, my tumblr is the same as this username, sorta : 
> 
> http://winchester-with-wings.tumblr.com

Dean can be a real sweetheart sometimes; though it takes some coaxing out to actually see it.

Sometimes when they're at the Batcave, and everyone sits down to work on research, you try not to notice how Dean sits next to you when there's an empty seat next to Sam and the chairs at both ends of the table are open as well. You try not to let it get to your head that Dean seems to have actually _chosen_ to sit next to you. It happens again tonight. The boys had been away on a hunt for a couple of days. They’d been back for a few hours, both of them taking quick naps before getting up to eat dinner and join you in the library.

Dean doesn’t get dinner right away, instead he chooses to sit next to you at an otherwise empty table. He scoots the chair in after dropping several aged books on the table. You try to act like you didn't flinch when the books hit the table and not look so uncomfortable as the chair makes screeching noises as he scoots; though you're not really uncomfortable.

Dean is rough around the edges, a battle-worn and tough man but also loyal and protective. You count yourself lucky to be one of those he trusts so much. Being near Dean is one of the most comforting sensations you've ever experienced. Even though all he's doing is sitting 6 inches away. Is he sitting that close on purpose? You can't help but force the benefit of the doubt upon yourself and everything that involves Dean Winchester.

You still can't believe that not long ago you're supposedly hidden desires for Dean Winchester were realized by the man himself as he carried you to bed after falling ill. You'd reacted poorly to the cold medicine Sam had brought you and you weren't able to control the way you became touchy-feely whenever Dean came within arm’s reach. To be honest with yourself, you'd even felt Sam up that night, squeezing his broad shoulders, chest and biceps.

"Sammy's sooo big," you'd mumbled, wrapping your arms around him and hanging slack against his chest. You'd taken a deep breath, smelling that warm, woody smell that was so familiar and so Sam. "You're like a tree," you said. "But you're so soft and warm," technically it was his flannel shirt that was soft and warm. "You're like a teddy bear." You'd hummed happily at the sound and feel of Sam's amused chuckle coming from his chest. After kissing you on the head and thanking you for that compliment—which was rare because you liked to bottle up your feelings and didn’t necessarily compliment people often—he’d gently unlatched your arms from his shoulders and handed over your clingy fingers to Dean.

You'd gasped as Dean pulled you close, your hands lying flat against his chest. Sure Sam was warm but he was wearing a flannel over a couple of layers. Dean? Dean was _hot_. And all he was wearing was a thin cotton gray t-shirt. The heat you felt with your hands on his chest was all Dean. He was radiating heat and you couldn't help but wonder if that was his natural thermostat or if you could raise his temperature even higher. Your fingers curled on his pecs as if you were squeezing boobs. You moved to squeeze his shoulders and then his head, enjoying the feel of his hair under your fingers. You’d imagined pulling on his hair and you’re not sure if maybe you actually did do that because Dean’s beautiful green eyes had twinkled mischievously.

Dean eventually scooped you up into his arms, his right arm under your bent knees and your arms wrapped around his neck. If you had been healthy and sober, you would’ve objected to Dean carrying you; you aren't exactly the skinniest girl (woman! A Woman of Letters you remind yourself) and you've always hated the idea of truly subjecting anyone to carrying your weight. But back then, you’d been drunk on cough syrup so instead of protesting you relished the moment. You nuzzled his neck where it joined the shoulder.

"Let's get you tucked into bed, Sweetheart," he'd said. He'd seemed to carry you with ease down the hallways to where all of their bedrooms were. When Sam was nowhere in sight, you seem to recall that, with your face curled into his neck, you'd pressed a couple of soft kisses to his throat. He set you down in your bed gently and you'd wished to pull him down with you. You might've asked him to stay with you. "Don't leave me. I want you..." you'd nearly whined. And in a strange moment of clarity and all seriousness you had said, "I need you Dean." He'd seemed to hesitate to move after that, standing next to your bed. He snapped out of whatever deer-in-the-headlights state of shock you'd put him into a few seconds later and acted like you hadn't just basically confessed to having feelings for him.

He took off your shoes slowly with his dexterous fingers trailing along the bottoms of your feet. You might’ve snorted and giggled. He'd actually tucked you in, making sure you were wrapped in a good amount of blankets and that your head rested comfortably on the pillow. He'd kissed you on the forehead after sweetly caressing your cheek with his thumb. Rather than hold out for false hope, you tell yourself that he was just checking on your fever. But you can't deny—if you even remembered correctly—how after you'd whimpered one last time, "I want you..." you’d sighed, "to stay with me," Dean Winchester replied "Next time, Sweetheart, when you're feeling better."

A couple weeks later, here you are. Since you're bout with the common cold, Sam and Dean had taken on a couple of cases. You haven't noticed much of a difference in how Dean acts around you but then again maybe you weren't looking hard enough. Because Dean had almost been overly nice and attentive these last few days, offering to help you out with training or researching or even just keeping you company while organizing the Men of Letters archive; almost like he'd been going the extra mile to spend more time with you and you’re pretty sure you’re imagining the passing feather-light touches.

A perfect example would be right now, with how he's sitting so obviously close to you. Sam has joined you two at the table, his hair a little messy from his nap. One of your hands is under the table, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you read. You’d found Sam and Dean two potential cases while they were gone and now you're all trying to determine with research if they're worth pursuing. You're so absorbed in reading about some obscure monster that you're startled by the touch of Dean's fingers to your hand. You play off your surprised flinch, noticed by Sam, as an itch that you take care of with the hand above the table.

You glance over at Dean, realizing that the physical sensations you're experiencing is Dean running his fingers over the back of your hand, then turning it over, palm facing up, and running those same fingertips over your palm before finally laying his large hand over yours and curling his fingers to intertwine your fingers with his. You attempt to tame the butterflies in your stomach at the same time as you fight the urge to smile and blush. You look back down at your book before stealing one last glance at him. He keeps squeezing your hand under the table periodically. But above the table? Dean is looking down at the book in front of him. His brow is furrowed in concentration and his lips are pursed in both an intense and confused state. Those lips of his, pushed out into a sort of pout, are plush and full of temptation. They’re pink and shine almost like he’s wearing chapstick. Are those lips as soft as they look?

You squeeze his hand back, trying to focus on your reading as well. You see out of your peripheral that he looks at you and you can't help the small lick of your lips as you think about actually leaning over and kissing him. But you're trying to be considerate of Sam, whose nose is firmly stuck in his laptop. You also hold yourself back because you still doubt that any of this is real.

In your mind, your sick confession of wanting and needing Dean Winchester was likely met with disgust and rejection. Why would Dean Winchester ever want you when he could have anyone he desired, including any tall, skinny and beautiful women he seemed to attract anywhere he went? This demeaning and self-conscious question, this personal and negative hit to your self-esteem is enough to deflate your fast beating heart and effectively smother those butterflies. You frown slightly and your grip on his hand loosens and you're positive that he's noticed because he allows you to loosen your grip until you can completely pull it away and set it on the table with your other hand.

After about twenty minutes, Dean’s grumbling stomach is loud enough that both you and Sam are giving him pointed looks. He marks the page of the book he’s skimming before getting up to go to the kitchen. When he comes back, you’re surprised by the tray he’s carrying. You make space for it on the table, curious about how much food he prepared for himself. The tray has two plates and two mugs on it. There’s a sandwich on each plate, one’s turkey with bacon and lettuce and the other is loaded with at least three kinds of meat and no veggies at all. That one’s obviously Dean’s. He puts the turkey sandwich in front of you right before dropping a quick kiss at the crown of your head. You freeze. Did he just…? Sam looks equally surprised but he grins to himself a second later. Dean sits down with his sandwich and puts one of the mugs by your plate.

Is that whip cream? Impulsively, your first thought is that you wish the whip cream was on Dean instead of the steaming hot chocolate. Your cheeks flush at the thought you weren’t able to stop. Dean might’ve noticed because he grins sweetly at you and winks.

“Thanks,” you mumble. Dean squeezes your knee as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate. Some of the whip cream stays behind on his upper lip. You lick your lip as a signal for him to lick his own. He does it but raises a flirty eyebrow at you.

An hour or so later, both of Dean's hands are still out where you can see them. His elbow has touched yours a couple of times but you pass it off as coincidence and a result of him sitting too close in the first place. There are also a few moments when even out in the open, Dean's fingers graze the back of your hand. If there is any sort of desire to be had from Dean, you realize that he is persistent in the face of your own stubbornness and you hope he continues. Because maybe he'll wear you down enough to overpower your self-talk telling you that you're crazy and misreading the situation. You're hoping his persistence is strong enough to kill all doubts that maybe, just maybe Dean Winchester likes you more than a friend or hunter.

Sam eventually calls it a night, closing his laptop and leaving it on the table. You think to yourself that Sam must have a password on it if he's leaving it out here in the open where Dean could use it inappropriately.

Now that it's just you and Dean out in the main room of the bunker, you feel the awkwardness and tension even more. Who's going to go to bed first and when they do go, will their version of goodnight include an invitation? You squelch those thoughts quickly because why would Dean Winchester ever invite you into his bed? It's like you're both playing a game of chicken. Who's going to go to bed first? It should come as no surprise that you balk. You set about cleaning up your space on the table and saying a simple good night. Dean does the same, deciding that you're right and its way past his bedtime. Dean is barely awake with heavy-lidded eyes and his head resting in the palm of his hand. You chuckle at that but you know that since he hasn't been drinking lately and not at all tonight it probably will be hard for him to fall asleep.

As you both head towards your respective bedrooms located down the same hall, something in Dean's attitude changes. Dean's walk to his room—which comes up before yours—slows down. You go to walk past him, patting him on the back as you go and mumbling goodnight when that change is truly apparent as he quickly but gingerly grabs ahold of your fingers to stop you from walking away. At first you stare at the hand that's holding yours. You're positive that you look confused because when you look up at Dean, there's a tired, cute, and amused smile on his face.

"What? What's up?" you try to say casually. Dean opens his bedroom door and starts to pull you in after him.

“Sleep with me?” he asks.

Did Dean Winchester just ask you to sleep with him? Is he serious?! Wait, does he mean sex or actually sleep? That’s probably the real question that needed to be answered. “Sleep?” is the only word you manage to get out. Dean drowsily nods. “Or sex?” You actually are surprised that you were able to say that to his face. He chuckles and raises an eyebrow. He half-shrugs.

“Both?” he winks at you and you’re not sure if he’s serious.

This isn't the first time you've been in Dean's room. Hell, you've even shared a motel room with him and Sam; often enough to identify whose snore is whose. That sleeping arrangement is unfortunately not the kind any woman would want with Sam and Dean Winchester because rather than share a bed with either of them, one of them usually sleeps on the motel room couch instead. Despite your desire for Dean, you appreciate how respectful he and his brother are of a female hunter.

Fortunately, Dean's room is cleaner than any motel they've ever been to. You like how he's decorated the space, especially since you've basically done nothing to personalize your room. The lighting in here is dimmed, coming from only one light rather than all of them. Dean closes the bedroom door behind you and comes to stand before you, taking both of your hands into his.

"What's going on?" you ask. Dean's thumbs rub over the back of your hands. He releases your hands and walks over to his dresser. Your mind runs away with itself wondering what he's going to pull out of that top drawer. Instead of anything you'd suspected, it's just a plain white cotton t-shirt which he tosses onto the bed. Dean comes back over to you standing near his door. He tucks some of your hair behind your ear and cups your head.

"I want you." He leans in and presses the softest kiss you've ever felt in your life to your own lips. His other hand is on your hip now. "I want you to stay here. Stay with me," he whispers between a couple more kisses but it almost sounds like a growl and all of those smothered butterflies have been instantly revived. After a few more gentle closed mouth kisses, Dean is leading you towards the bed. You drag your feet trying to build up the courage for any excuse to tell him why nothing should happen tonight. This is crazy! Why is Dean doing this? He can't possibly mean what he says.

The back of your knees hit the end of his bed. Dean's hand on your hip moves to the small of your back and he presses your body to his. The heat of his body against yours is enveloping. You feel like your bodies are melding together with one of his legs pressed between yours, slanting your hips together rather than them facing squarely. You're embarrassed and hope he doesn't feel the heat rising up in your own body. Your desire and need for Dean is burning hot and low in your belly and creating an ache inside you even lower than that. He gently cradles the back of your head with his fingers tangled in your hair as he leans in. Those entirely too kissable lips press to yours again.

When you try to take a breath of the air that he takes away, you part your lips just slightly and his tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip quickly before delving into your mouth. Reflexively and because you’ve always wanted to, you kiss him back, finding that he welcomes your tongue to tangle with his and lick into the warmth of his mouth. Your hands slide up his arms, squeezing his shoulders before you also move to hold the back of his neck. His hair is soft where your hand rests, you imagine trying to grip it similar to how he's starting to pull on your hair. Your other hand rests on his jaw, your thumb rubbing against the slight stubble he likes to keep.

Dean's hold in your hair tightens for a second. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, eliciting another gasp from your throat. Dean hums and smiles against your lips. A moan escapes you as he begins to kiss along your jaw. That hand in your hair finally pulls your head back and you happily allow yourself to expose your throat to Dean's soft wet kisses. He starts to suck a mark into your skin right where your pulse is beating rapidly. You wonder if he feels it and if his heart is beating this fast too. Your right hand comes to rest over his heart and you almost convince yourself that it’s pounding along with yours.

His grip on your body presses you tighter to him, his hips roll against yours and another moan escapes you, this time joined with a choked out growl from him. You let your eyes drift closed. It makes you more aware of the way Dean’s touching you. You're aware that the hand at your back is now sliding down to cup your ass. Your eyes fly open and your breathing is heavy as Dean starts to kiss the other side of your neck and your collarbone. You try to ground yourself in reality and tell yourself that this couldn't actually be happening. Dean must be drunk and your desire for him is not returned, but the sweet taste of his mouth and the feel of his hips to yours tell you something else. This _is_ reality.

Dean hasn't had a drink all day and that is an erection pressing into your hip. The realization makes your hips twitch and roll like his keep doing. "Dean," you manage to say with a sigh. He growls in response to hearing his name and feeling your hips move. Both of his hands are now cupping your ass you realize as he lifts you up and your legs are forced to wrap around his hips.

Dean manages to climb onto his bed and sits back on his knees with you in his lap. You're both kissing each other again, your lips slick against his like you're hungry for anything he's willing to give.

"Dean, why?" you manage to whisper against his lips. His response is to rise from sitting back in his knees and lay you down gently on your back with your head on the pillow. He nips at your lips again before nipping at your throat next. His teeth graze your collarbone. He grinds his hips and it makes you whimper.

"Y/N, I need you," he finally says. His hands are running up and down your slides along the curves you'd always thought were maybe a little too soft and curvy. The way he grabs yours hips and digs in with his fingertips though almost tell you that he might like holding on to your curves. "Stay with me. Please Y/N, stay with me tonight? I want you." He punctuates his statement with another roll of his hips which presses his erection to your own sex and the friction of denim between you both is exhilarating.

But of course you can't help but overthink. He’s repeating your words back to you. Does he really mean it? Dean's saying he wants you but is it only for tonight? Could you handle having Dean this way for just one night when you've wanted him since the day you met? Or would it just make you feel worse like having it only once would probably mean letting him go forever? Because you're sure you'll lose yourself to him more than you already have and you wouldn't be able to handle seeing him with anyone else. But how could you possibly say all that to Dean? You're still trying to think about that when the words come out of your mouth on their own.

"Just for tonight?" You're hoping that the hope in your voice is interpreted properly and that it overpowers the sounds of anxiety. Dean stops kissing your neck and the part of your chest that’s exposed by the blue tank top you’re wearing. His beautiful green eyes lock onto yours as he seems to be reading your face. He places a soft slow and tender kiss to the top of your left breast. One of his hands on your hips comes up to caress your face and likely smooth out the hair messed by the pillow. He kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your jaw and finally your lips.

"No," he says. "I want you to be _mine_. Not just for tonight." Your eyes soften at this admission. You caress the side of his face, loving how he leans into it. You run your fingers through his hair and smile but not too big. You don't want him to know just yet that that's everything you've wanted to hear since the beginning. You pull him down into a soft kiss but he actually starts to rise, taking his weight off of your body and sitting up. The passion you feel reciprocated in the kiss leads you to believe he’s not pulling away in rejection. You follow his lips, sitting up too. There's a new kind of heat and fire and need in Dean's eyes now. It’s a slow and steady flame that looks like it will never burn out.

You move to sit on the edge of the bed as Dean comes to stand between your knees. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Dean says in a voice heavy with emotion. He bends to you give you another burning kiss that you can feel all the way to your toes. Dean reaches over his head to pull off his shirts. Standing in front of you, you marvel at Dean Winchester. You reach out to touch him, your fingers first touching the tattoo on his chest before your drag your nails down his abdomen. Dean throws his head back with a moan. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he groans, “I’ll always want you.”

Dean’s hands go to your hips and you feel him begin to lift up your tank top. You’re nervous for him to see you without your shirt but the moment he does and he bites his lip your anxiety disappears. He drags a finger along your bra strap and you wish that he’d just tear it off but he’s moving slow. You notice that his eyes are hooded and his breathing is heavy. You know the passion is there but you also know that he’s tired. Maybe he’d been serious about you just _sleeping_ together. If Dean really means what he says, that his desire for you will last past tonight, you realize that Dean doesn’t really need sex right now. He needs sleep.

You stand up and begin to remove your jeans, very much aware of how Dean’s gaze is fixated on your hands. Standing in just your undergarments, you pause to let Dean look you over and the burning lust in his eyes is almost enough to make you forget your resolve to put Dean to bed. You press close to Dean, your breasts pushed up against his chest. You place sweet tender kisses to his shoulders which you find to be freckled just like his nose and cheeks. You hope that one day you can take the time to carefully count those freckles. You start to undo Dean’s jeans, he sucks in a shaky breath and holds it.

The burning heat and ache in the pit of your stomach you’re trying so hard to ignore returns with a vengeance when you see that Dean is wearing black boxer briefs. You’d half expected them to be plaid boxer shorts.

Dean’s hands are on your hips as you move. You turn around to face the bed, picking up the t-shirt he’d retrieved. You didn’t give a thought to the fact that turning around meant giving Dean a look at your ass. The grip of his fingers still on your hips tightening as you lean to pick up the shirt makes you giddy with anticipation for future time alone with Dean. You wiggle your rear just a tad and Dean chuckles and hums in appreciation. You quickly remove your bra, not letting him glimpse your breasts before putting on Dead’s white t-shirt. One of his hands squeezes your ass quickly before you crawl back into the bed.

Dean and you settle in under the covers. The arousal you both feel has been muted but it’s tender and still there under the surface. For a little while, Dean is spooning you, holding you up against his chest. He’s lazily pressing sweet kisses to the back of your neck. But then the sheets rustle and Dean rolls over onto his right side.

“My arm was falling asleep,” he mumbles. You chuckle and roll over with him, now becoming the big spoon. You drape your arm over his side but he wedges it under his arm so that he can comfortably hold your hand. He pulls your hand up to his mouth and keeps your fingers there pressed against his lips as he begins to snore softly. You start to drift off yourself. Your last thought is that you could get used to sleeping with Dean Winchester.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean had totally meant what he said when he was interested in both sleeping and having sex with you.

That became apparently clear to you in your hazy morning daze when you felt the rough calloused hands of Dean trailing up your body and under youR shirt. You wiggle against his body playfully because at some point during the night Dean had become the big spoon again.

“You look so sexy in my t-shirt,” he whispers, his teeth nibbling at your ear. It sends a tingle down your spine. Dean nips at the back of your neck and you love how animal and possessive it is. You gasp when his fingers brush against one of your hardening nipples. “Mmm, I wanna hear you make some noise, baby.”

All of Dean’s exhaustion from the night before has evaporated. He moves quickly, snatching your hips to lay you on your back with his body weighing down on you. He presses his lips to yours harshly with urgent need. Dean rolls his body and his hips grind against yours. You feel his morning arousal pulsing against your sex; yours and his underwear is all that stands between you. Dean’s breath hitches as he moves his hands up your body again to cup your breasts. He bites his lip as he moves farther to pull the shirt up over your head. The cold air of the bunker in the morning makes your nipples harden more and goosebumps prickle your skin.

Dean takes a second to admire your naked breasts before dropping his head to take one of them into his mouth, his tongue laving at the hard bud. His other hand squeezes and pinches the other while he works. You arch your back into him, moaning with your eyes wide open. This is actually happening!

Dean’s mouth moves to your other breast, leaving the first one with an almost-too hard bite and a quick blow of air to ensure your nipple stays peaked. His hand doesn’t fondle that first breast. Instead it begins to move down your body, his thumb catching on the seam of your panties. Your hips twitch up, inviting him to remove the fabric. You whimper with your desire.

“Dean…” you managed to gasp as he begins to suck a mark onto your breast. You bury your hands in his hair, encouraging his exploration.

“That’s right, baby, I want you to say my name.” Dean manages to say between wet open-mouthed kisses trailing down your chest and stomach. One of his hands cups your mound. He kisses the inside of your thigh. Surely this time he can sense the heat pooling down in your center. “Wanna hear my name come from those lips as you come for me.”

Dean finally pulls off your panties. You’re vaguely aware of how his body shifts, suggesting that he might’ve removed his underwear too. One of Dean’s fingers traces over your folds, dipping into the moistness that Dean and his desire has stirred up in you.

“Mmmm, fuck Y/N. You’re so wet for me,” Dean purrs as his finger brushes over your clit. Your hips jolt at the sudden burst of pleasure you feel from Dean and that ball of nerves. You feel his hot breath over your sex only for a moment before Dean’s tongue flicks out to tease your clit. His finger moves lower to your entrance and starts to push in and out of you, a second finger joining in not long after.

Dean is sucking on your clit but resorts to just licking at it and your entrance as your hips buck and grind against his mouth. “Dean,” you gasp, “I think I’m gonna…” He curls his fingers inside you and moves them once or twice as you reach the brink and crash into your orgasm.

“Yeah, baby, like that. You look so fucking gorgeous right now.” Dean licks his lips as he slowly removes his fingers from your tightening hole. Your body shudders with aftershocks and as good as that was, you’re hoping it’s not over. You grab at his shoulders, trying to get him to move up your body and meet you face to face. When he finally does, he kisses you and you’re surprisingly turned on by the sweet taste of yourself on his tongue. Dean’s hips twitch with need. The head of his member briefly touches your moist sex.

Your breathing is heavy and you feel like you’ve lost yourself in a dream. You search desperately in Dean’s green eyes for a confirmation that what’s happening is real and genuinely desired. There’s a flicker in his eyes that suggests he can see that insecurity behind your eyes. He caresses your check before moving his hand to the back of your neck to brace himself. He kisses you passionately as he starts to slowly enter you.

The reality of taking a part of Dean into yourself…of joining your body with his on such an intimate level…of feeling Dean’s engorged cock inside you…is exhilarating.

Your head falls back into the pillow, breaking your kiss with Dean as you moan. Dean hisses, winces and even moans himself as he moves slowly. He begins to thrust in and out, each time a little faster, a little harder than before. And it’s not long before he’s sitting up on his knees with your hips raised off of the bed, and he’s pounding into you. His hands are holding onto your hips so tightly they’ll likely leave bruises.

“God. Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good. So tight. And all mine,” Dean grunts, punctuating his possessive declaration with a hard thrust. It makes you yelp in surprise, which makes Dean look down at you with a pleased grin. “You like that?” He thrusts again but you don’t yelp. You fix him with a challenging smirk. His jaw clenches and he bites his lip as he grins back down at you.

With his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, Dean continues to thrust until he can no longer keep the rhythm. His hips are twitching erratically and he’s wincing, a few beads of sweat dripping from his brow and into his eyes. Seeing how close he is to coming undone only adds to the fire rising inside of you as your approach another earth-shattering climax. Your legs are trembling wildly and then you tense up as your back arches and your head is thrown back but Dean is still thrusting rapidly into you and a choked cry tears itself from your throat as you begin to gasp his name.

“Dean! Dean, I’m…Ah...Dean I’m going to…”

“Me too baby. Come on my cock, baby. Make me come.”

Another particularly deep thrust pushes you off the edge and sends you crashing down with a shaking body, heavy breathing and blurry vision with which you think you’re seeing stars. Dean comes at the same time, emptying himself into you as he whimpers your name.

He collapses on top of you as he softens inside you. He places a couple of tired kisses to your face and lips. He adjusts his body to be lying beside you. He pulls you in to rest your head on his chest.

“Stay with me?” he whispers, placing a kiss into your hair. “Sleep with me?” he says in a teasing tone. You gently slap his chest because he’s trying to be funny but you know. You know that Dean Winchester wants you, that he needs you to be with him. And you know the answer will always be yes.


End file.
